The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Chapter 3332: Crimson Blood Melts Gold (4)

Boom boom boom—

The muffled explosions of thermal detonators began to sound, and the evil weapons on the pyramid began to flicker and die one by one. It was wounded, dying.

Only those eerie green doors remained open, continuing to spew out alien soldiers.

Marcus didn't stop, but grabbed the banner and continued upward, fighting all the way.

But suddenly, a huge rift appeared in front of them, emitting a strange light.

Marcus himself felt an unusual sense of foreboding. What had they unleashed?

Everyone stopped, and the surroundings were silent, like a silent omen of death.

Then, the things suddenly appeared.

It was taller than a heavy tank, with a bizarre three-legged structure. The end of its left hand was a merciless claw, and its right hand had two: one was a huge blade, and the other was a vicious ranged weapon. It stood like a mountain in front of the soldiers, followed by four smaller similar entities. Their arms were all terrifying giant blades.

The next second, these monsters pounced in a piercing metallic screech.

Instantly, flesh and blood splattered, and wails echoed. The human soldiers were like dolls being flung away, torn apart and thrown into the sky in a whirlwind of claws and giant blades.

Marcus stared, mouth agape. He could barely restrain his scream, but before he could utter a sound, someone's severed torso slammed into him.

"Ah!"

He cried out, knocked backward, and lost his footing, tumbling down the steps.

Marcus felt like the ball he kicked as a child. He kept hitting the hard, cold black stone, rolling over and over.

Until he finally crashed heavily, Marcus's face slammed into the ground. If not for the rebreather, this blow would have been enough to break his head, and in reality, he felt a throbbing pain in his ribs, likely broken one or two.

In a daze, his ears were filled with all sorts of sounds: shouts, screams, roars, explosions, gunshots, thuds…

"Ugh…"

He shook his head, curled up, knelt on the ground, and supported himself with his hands, feeling his internal organs were turned upside down. The height of the fall just now was at least fifty meters. He was only alive thanks to his combat suit.

Then he looked up and saw the battlefield in chaos. The aliens were not as desperate as he thought.

Nightmarish figures loomed in the firelight of the explosions. They poured out of the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, like ghosts.

Tomb Spectres. He immediately knew what he was facing, recalling the descriptions he'd heard during wargaming classes.

But without a doubt, they were more terrifying and deadly in terms of strength, or rather, killing power, than anyone had imagined.

They pounced on the unsuspecting soldiers who were storming the pyramid, their elongated spines whipping like the tails of vipers, emitting lethal electric shocks, while the claws on both sides of their bodies easily tore through the combat suits and flesh.

He personally saw a Mechanical Spectre fixate on an officer. As the officer opened fire, the long tail whipped across his chest, and then the scalpel-like fingers dug into the officer's rebreather, gouging out viscous blood from his eyes.

In the blink of an eye, another Mechanical Spectre flew towards him. Marcus was instantly terrified and quickly stood up, brandishing his command sword.

Fortunately, a nearby soldier reacted in time, preemptively firing a melta. The crimson beam caused tremendous damage to these metal spectres. Its head was liquefied in a burst of melta fire, but the hot wave of heat also struck Marcus's helmet, giving him the illusion that his cheeks were burned, and even his nostrils smelled scorched.

But this was only a trivial counterattack. The soldiers besieging the pyramid were falling one by one, pierced by those stinger tails or torn apart by claws.

Marcus realized it was a trap. The aliens had deliberately allowed them to break through the defenses, even approaching victory, and then sent out hidden ambushes when they were nearly exhausted.

At this point, the formation was completely disrupted, and they couldn't organize an effective counterattack at all. All sorts of roars hissed on the vox bead, and even he accepted this desperate situation.

Even those alien infantry, like hounds on all fours with long claws, resembling ghouls, unscrupulously passed through the crowd, ambushing commanders and heavy firepower positions in the rear. They cut down victims one after another, almost before anyone could react.

Suddenly, someone shouted.

"The Astartes are here! Don't be afraid!"

Although he didn't see the Astartes, this was undoubtedly a shot in the arm. Marcus immediately bent down and picked up the fallen banner.

"Brothers! The Angels are here!"

As soon as he raised the 'beacon,' a Necron with claws suddenly rushed in front of him, but someone immediately rushed out to intercept.

The soldier waved his lasgun, trying to drive the attacker away. His bayonet stabbed into the opponent's eye socket, while the opponent's claws tore away his face. When the rebreather and skin were torn off, Marcus saw the soldier's eyes filled with primal rage, appearing pale under the bloody, exposed muscles.

As the soldier who saved him was pierced by claws, but still held on tightly to the enemy, Marcus felt a surge of anger. He raised his sword and stabbed it into one of its eye sockets, extinguishing the green light inside, causing the creature to spin helplessly and fall.

The soldier and the enemy fell together.

But more people gathered around him. Marcus turned around, holding up his sword. Those repulsed Immortals walked towards him in hundreds and thousands. Seeing those identical, expressionless skull faces, Marcus didn't feel a trace of fear in his heart.

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They shot out streams of emerald energy, and those who were hit turned to ashes. But none of the soldiers retreated.

Behind them were larger skeletons, their lower bodies cut off and fused to anti-gravity platforms, their right arms replaced by bulky gauss cannons.

"Ready!"

Marcus raised the banner. There might be hundreds of people around him, or fewer. He could hear their desperate gasps.

The huge three-legged monster also walked slowly towards them, its cold gaze seeming to carry a hint of mockery. Marcus returned a contemptuous laugh.

He threw away his sword, clasped the banner tightly with both hands. This banner was riddled with holes and most of it was burned away, but it still had meaning—

Revenge.

"Charge!!!"

With a roar, Marcus strode forward, and the others roared too, raising various weapons in their hands and charging towards the oncoming army of destruction.

They didn't see the Angels there until their death, but they believed they were behind them, and the blood they shed would carve out a negligible path for their blades.

"These mortals are doing a good job of attracting the aliens' attention."

Zheros, the company commander of the Minotaurs Chapter, could hear the fierce fighting from afar, and that was his only comment.

Around him were a hundred veterans, as well as his Exterminator squad.

They did not join the Orpheus Death Corps' attack on the energy nodes, because their Chapter Master judged that the enemy must have deployed heavy troops there, so this was an opportunity. They accelerated their advance from another route to the ship's core, even having the opportunity to eliminate the unprotected alien leader.

And those mortal soldiers, they were going to die anyway.